Disclaimer: I don't own Burn Notice this is all for fun.
Just a bit of nonsense for Christmas. This normally not my thing, I will probably never do it again. But it was stuck in my head so here it is. A bit of fluff, I believe is the term.
Fiona's Twelve Days of Christmas.
Michael had been walking through the Mall for nearly four hours looking for the ideal present for Fiona. He had seen many things he knew she would like, but somehow nothing was just right, nothing stood out. This year in particular it had to be perfect, she had been through so much for him. Six months in a federal prison waiting to find out if she was going to be extradited back to the UK. But in the end they had managed to keep her out of MI6's hands, mostly thanks to Agent Pearce's intervention.
Four hours of torture though and he decided enough was enough there was no way he was going to get anything that let her know how much he loved and needed her. That would show her how much he appreciated every inch of her being. As he neared the exit, shoulder's slumped in defeat he had to stop in the crush to get out of the doors.
Like a bolt out of the blue it came to him, what he had to do. The thought made him feel both excited and nauseous at the same time.
Over the noise of the crowds came the endless sound of overly jolly voices singing Christmas carols. An idea settled at the back of his mind. It would be risky, there was a strong possibility before the end of it she would have killed him.
On Christmas Morning Fiona woke up to find,
A box of cartridges and an AR15.
Wrapped in paper at the end of the bed. She had given him a puzzled look. What girl didn't like a bit of nostalgia, but just not what she expected on Christmas morning.
On the second day of Christmas she woke up to find a smaller box, inside were,
Two perfectly weighted throwing daggers.
She held one in each hand, getting the feel for the perfectly weighted weapons before sending them sailing through the air, embedding them nearly to the hilts on either side of her lover's head. "Thank you Michael." She smiled sweetly.
On the third day of Christmas Fiona walked into the kitchen to find on the work top,
Three French FAMAS rifles. Each one with a pink silk ribbon tied in a bow.
On the fourth day of Christmas she discovered on waking up the Christmas tree decorated in,
Four Metres of top quality Det cord.
On the fifth day of Christmas there was nothing waiting in the loft for her. She looked at Michael's grinning face and when he waved the keys for the Charger high in the air. She grabbed them off him and ran down the steps in the trunk she found
Five R.P.G's
Over the following days she woke each morning to find a surprise waiting.
Six Grenades for Slaying.
Seven Ceremonial Swords for slashing.
Eight Alexander McQueen dresses for wearing.
Nine designer hand bags.
Ten Lou Boutin shoes for dancing.
The next one Michael drove her out to a deserted warehouse, and stood before a row of abandoned, wrecked cars. Where he handed her a detonator wrapped in a bright red ribbon. There she got to admire:
Eleven Pipe Bombs exploding.
And on the last day of Christmas, sitting on the middle of the loft floor.
Twelve blocks of C4.
As she sat cross legged on the floor inspecting each block in turn, and making a new pile. She saw something else hidden amongst the plastique, a small box. Her eyes went wide as she looked inside.
Inside a platinum and gold ring with a large Asscher cut Diamond.